Aarson
by baisbais
Summary: Aaron and Jackson meet up for the first time after the court case...


_OK._

That was all the text message from Jackson had said. Not that Aaron had been exactly verbose himself: just asked Jackson if he wanted to meet up for a pint, naming the time and place. Instead of picking Bar West, Aaron had chosen a 'normal' pub. He wanted to make clear that it wasn't a date – not yet. And he wanted to show Jackson that he was prepared to meet him in the 'real world'. That they could meet in a pub without it ending in a fight…

But now it was 7:10, and Jackson still wasn't here. Aaron got his phone out his pocket, and checked his outgoing text messages… yes, he'd definitely said 7. And had got here about half six, because he was so nervous. Every time the door opened, he caught his breath… and every time it wasn't Jackson. Well, it gave him more time to rehearse what he was going to say. Truth be told, words weren't his strong point. Anyway, debating whether to start the conversation 'Hi' or 'Hello' wouldn't help matters if Jackson didn't turn up.

"You all right there, love?" The lady behind the bar smiled expectantly at him. She was about fifty, with streaked blonde hair and a friendly face. "Can I get you another?"

"I've not ordered my first yet. I'm waiting for a – a friend of mine."

"Hope she knows how lucky she is," the lady laughed, and winked at him. "If I were twenty years younger…"

Where had he heard that before? Of course – it was from Pearl. About Jackson. Aaron forced himself to smile at the barmaid, though he hoped it wouldn't encourage her to continue the exchange.

"Well, you know where I am when you want me, love. For a drink, that is!" She laughed again. This sort of patter obviously amused her usual punters, and equally obviously she didn't mean it seriously – but Aaron felt like a liar just listening to it. Maybe one day he'd just laugh back, say "Sorry ducks, you're not my type – grow a dick and we'll talk!" But he couldn't imagine himself ever being that sort of person, or having that sort of confidence.

"Looks like my friend's not coming, any road. So…"

"Hello Aaron. Here I am." There Jackson was. After staring at the door all evening, Aaron had missed the only entrance he'd been bothered about.

"Alright?" said Aaron. So - not 'Hi' or 'Hello' after all. One look at Jackson, and his rehearsed words had rather melted away. It was impossible to read what Jackson was thinking, his face was more or less expressionless – but the main thing was that he was _here_. This was Aaron's chance to try and sort things out.

"Couple of pints?" said the barmaid, and Jackson nodded quickly at her. A few minutes of awkward silence later, Jackson and Aaron were sat opposite each other at a table in the corner of the pub.

"Look," said Jackson, "I don't know why you invited me here – and I definitely don't know why I came."

"I dunno – I wanted to see you. I wanted to apologise." said Aaron

"What for?"

"Eh?"

"What do you want to apologise for? It's important."

"For – y'know, for hitting you and stuff."

"Right." Jackson looked angrier than before, for some reason. He drank from his glass. After a pause, he said sharply: "You still don't get it, do you?"

Aaron was nonplussed. It was difficult enough for him to apologise – he hardly ever did it; he couldn't remember _ever_ saying sorry to his Mum – but apparently Jackson wanted more than that. And Aaron was willing to give it – he just didn't know what 'it' was.

"You shouldn't have hit me, sure," continued Jackson, "but that's not what really hurt me. I'm a big boy, I get into scraps sometimes. I can cope with that. It was those things you shouted _whilst_ you decked me – that's what hurt."

Aaron was silent, embarrassed.

"What was it you said? 'Get your hands off me, you queer.' Something about catching a disease off me, is that right?"

Jackson was staring intently at Aaron, who in turn was staring at the table. He could feel himself about to cry, but he didn't know if the tears were for himself or for Jackson. Jackson kept talking:

"Do you know how disgusting that made me feel? That someone I thought was a mate – someone I kissed, for pity's sake – could call me those things? It took me right back to when I was thirteen and I got taunted at school for being gay."

Aaron, despite himself, felt anger against those who had upset Jackson – even when he'd done so much worse himself.

"I used to feel so ashamed, and I haven't felt ashamed for years. You put me right back there, Aaron. That's why you should say sorry."

Jackson finished his pint, and started to stand up. Aaron – with silent tears sliding down his face – reached out his hand to stop him.

"Watch it – I've known blokes be punched for less." said Jackson

Aaron couldn't let him leave now; not like this.

"I am sorry," he mumbled. "Jackson – I'm sorry for all that, too. I'm sorry I made you feel like that. I didn't think I could."

Jackson sat back down, and watched Aaron intently.

"What do you mean?" said Jackson.

"You seem so together. So – I don't know – unfazed by everything. I didn't realise you could… feel ashamed too." said Aaron

"I don't, most of the time. But it brought back bad memories. Look, I'm happy with who I am now – and I wish you would be too."

Neither of them said anything for a while. It was still difficult to read Jackson's expression, but it gave Aaron some hope. Surely, in those kind brown eyes, there was a sign that they wouldn't always be so distant? Aaron didn't feel like he deserved it, after all that had happened between them, but being in Jackson's company felt so right. They were on the same level – they could banter like he did with Adam, but Jackson knew about all his feelings and thoughts, and didn't judge him. Not that Adam judged him, far from it, but Jackson _understood_. And – it was undeniable – there was chemistry between them. No other word for it – and Aaron hadn't experienced that mutual chemistry before. It made his relationship with Holly seem like hugging a lettuce. This was a whole new territory – scary, but potentially wonderful. If only he could convince Jackson to trust him again.

Jackson sighed. "Well. If we're giving out apologies – I guess I owe you one."

"You what?"

"I shouldn't have called the police. I wouldn't have done normally, not for a scrap, but I was so angry. Really angry. I wanted to punish you for – well, you know what for now. I never thought you'd want to take you own--. Well, anger isn't a great motivation for anything, is it?"

"Mate! I could write the book about doing stupid things when I'm angry." said Aaron. Jackson raised one eyebrow, and smiled.

"I didn't know you could write. Anyway, I won't ask. Not now."

It was Aaron's turn to smile. That sounded like they'd be seeing each other again. He offered Jackson another pint, trying not to sound too hopeful, but Jackson turned it down.

"I should get home. Thanks. I am glad we met up, but – " Jackson raised his hands behind his head, and was clearly trying to find the right words. "If we see each other again, I need to know you won't _ever_ make me feel like you did. I don't want people in my life who do that."

"I won't. I promise." Aaron looked into Jackson's eyes; they were so deep and dark, and with such emotion in them. And he couldn't keep his eyes away from Jackson's lips, remembering them against his own. "I don't want you to feel like that because of anyone, let alone me." Dammit, another tear was rolling down his own face!

Jackson smiled and stood up.

"That's enough for now, Aaron. People will think I'm making you cry."

"Can I see you again?" Aaron asked, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

"Maybe." Jackson took two steps towards the door, and turned back around. "Ok. I'll call you. Make sure you don't go losing your phone – I don't want any other guys returning it to you, do I? Take care, Aaron."

Aaron watched Jackson leave the pub, and couldn't keep the grin off his face.


End file.
